


cosmic kid

by hydrochaeris



Category: The Get Down (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Far Too Many Space Metaphors, M/M, this started out as a dizzee character study and then thor showed up......... my bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10343721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrochaeris/pseuds/hydrochaeris
Summary: It seems like Dizzee spends all his time under fake stars now.





	

It seems like Dizzee spends all his time under fake stars now. The artificial lights of clubs strung up bright and neon are incomparable to the velvet black sky that he used to live in alone, with studded pinpoints of light tracing stories that ancient gods created, all-powerful and all-knowing. He doesn’t mean that this new universe sprawling open and colorful before him isn’t a beautiful, freeing thing. He just doesn’t know how to reconcile it with the place Rumi has always felt at home. Doesn’t know how to make the two of them mesh in his mind to make a perfect place.

Nothing is perfect, of course. Dizzee can easily find the flaw in any of his art pieces, despite others thinking he’s finished. Nothing created can ever truly be done. Creation itself is not an act to be completed, but a continuous motion, a spiral, a cycle. Everything painted can be painted over. Every mistake and error can be shaped into a new narrative and work. The energy of the world pools in ripples like water, like paint, like blood. All varying vibes and wavelengths coursing through the body like water, like paint, like blood. Everything containing a pattern unique to itself and only itself, but some patterns were destined to be more similar than others.

Dizzee loves the world he makes—he has to love the world, he has to make the world. It may be a selfish thing to find a realm outside of everyone else’s to exist, but he finds it necessary. Found it comforting. Now he doesn’t know what to make of it. He has never truly minded being different, just accepted it, moved on, made a space for himself. But these new galaxies—with heavy makeup and pounding bass and people swerving between dimensions, between versions of themselves—they’re magic. He’s never found so many people pulled together in the same tune as each other in the same place. He’s certainly never found a boy like Thor before—never found anyone else who made himself a kind of creator too.

And that brings him to now—here. This moment, where he’s crouching on his fire escape waiting for Thor to arrive. Because he’d wanted Thor on Rumi’s turf for once. He’d wanted to let Thor in. And that seemed like a good idea at the time, but Dizzee is nervous as hell. He’s used to not being understood. And under the club lights, under the sky of Thor’s turf, Thor’s home, he felt like he was. If this location changes that—Dizzee doesn’t know what he’ll do. So it’s kind of like a test, bringing Thor over here. Except a shitty kind that Dizzee didn’t warn him for so he can’t study. Can’t do anything but show up, oblivious, when Dizzee starts showing him around Rumi’s lair, and let himself be judged unknowingly.

Dizzee straightens up slowly, wishing he had a joint or a can of paint—needs something to do with his hands. He props them on the fire escape railing instead. Rumi, setting the stage.

Something creaks below him, and he instantly looks down to see broad shoulders and dirty blond hair, then Thor’s face as he tilts his head up to Dizzee, a smile already blooming. Rumi’s going fucking crazy up in Dizzee’s head. He really should’ve smoked before doing this; it was a stupid idea to go in sober. Okay. Okay. Dizzee clambers down, pretending like his limbs aren’t shaking, puts his hand on Thor’s shoulder before he can think himself out of it.

“Hey,” he whispers. “You came.”

“You told me to,” Thor says through his grin. It’s an anxious grin. Dizzee’s not alone here. Okay. He’s not alone, and it’s okay. It’s not familiar, but they’re similar.

“Yeah.” They’re not communicating with words right now—they’re speaking syllables full of nothing. Everything is in Thor’s eyes, dimples, the way he hasn’t moved from Dizzee’s touch. The way Dizzee can barely see him under burnt out streetlamps and sparse starlight. He should’ve done this when the moon was out to protect him, but it’s cloudy tonight. The clouds are always moving. The perpetual turning of the world is a comfort.

“You wanted to show me something,” Thor prompts. His grin has faded from a crescent moon to a waning one. His teeth are stars. Dizzee nods, speechless.

“Is it here…?”

Dizzee’s throat is a black hole. All his words jumble and spaghettify there instead of in the air between them. He squeezes Thor’s shoulder, turns him so he’s backing into the stairs of the fire escape, then gently forces him to sit high enough so their faces are level still. Makes the god exactly where he needs him to be.

“Right here.”

Thor nods like he knows. Maybe he does. Dizzee doesn’t control everything in this world, after all. He puts his other hand on Thor’s other shoulder, the parallelism of it pleasing, the symmetry symbolic.

Dizzee leans forward, and Thor’s mouth opens before Dizzee even kisses him, letting their energy pour together, a river running its current in a direction never before discovered. He can feel the three points where he’s touching Thor as if there’s multiplying infinities pulsing up into their contact, bubbling through his veins and up into his skin. Different stars connecting like a constellation, not by the physical distance between them, but by the story they share. The story they make.

Rumi isn’t at the opera. Tonight, he’s tap dancing on the invisible moon.

A new space. A new story. Thor’s tongue in his mouth is new, too. And he can accept its unfamiliar shape and taste, the weight of Thor’s hands suddenly on his face, then the warmth of his body as Dizzee steps involuntarily between his legs and expands their contact. It feels like they’re building a new planet between the two of them. Maybe a new plane of existence entirely. The spheres in his mind are converging slowly but surely.

Dizzee pulls back with a gasp, not even going far enough that their noses stop touching, too afraid of breaking their connection entirely.

“I’m an outsider,” he says, and Thor doesn’t respond. His eyes are still closed, mouth drawn in the shape of their kiss. Dizzee puts one of his hands on Thor’s chest. Just to check if he’s still breathing. He can feel Thor’s heartbeat pounding faster than light. A perfect rhythm. Nothing to improve as long as it keeps pumping the blood strong and healthy in Thor’s veins and letting him stay alive on this plane of reality.

“You’re intoxicating,” Thor says softly against Dizzee’s mouth, still panting slightly. “You’re incredible.”

“We’re gonna make worlds together,” Dizzee breathes. “Please—please tell me you’re okay with that.”

Thor’s smile is a half moon. Dizzee sends his apologies to the sky, but he thinks he likes it better than the real one.

“I want nothing more.”

Dizzee presses his hand to Thor’s heart. He doesn’t bother with words—he knows Thor will understand.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i know the cadence of this is super weird i'm sorry i haven't perfected dizzee's voice yet ): also, i did a project in 5th grade on black holes and i could’ve gone a lot more in depth with that metaphor, but it started sounding blowjob-esque so i had to cut it out. hmu on tumblr @dizzeeshao or my main @oceankiki!


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